A New Steadiness
by morglaw
Summary: Our favourite family comes across a young wandering girl in Truro. There is something about her that makes her worth keeping... is it her eyes? Her hair? Or perhaps her skin? Not sure where exactly this story is going but we can find out together I guess! Rated for everyone for now.
1. Chapter 1: An Abrupt Introduction

**So hi! I just started watching this show and have burned though four seasons in an embarrassingly short amount of time! Honestly the BBC is just insane with the quality of their shows.**

**Also, how have I not heard of this show until now! Angst, regency drama, bodice ripping, terrible parenting, windswept cliffs, a timeline that's all over the place, and mining… what more could a person ask for?**

**Anyhow this idea popped into my head, I can't make any promises about updates but I will try. If you're new to my stories, I apologize in advance, also you should know that I have other profiles on this site for dumb reasons, so if you're interested in reading other stories feel free to follow the links in the bio.**

**I'll do my best to be historically accurate, but I am not a historian in any way so please feel free to correct me. Thanks!**

**That being said I'm excited to see where this goes and excited to take whoever wants to come along with me! Let's go (with this super long chapter)!**

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**Chapter One – An Abrupt Introduction**

Grace had no recollection of her father.

She doubted very much that she would recognize him if he were to pass her on the street, even if he took the trouble to tip his hat at her as he walked by.

Perhaps as her mother had oft spoken of how he had given Grace his eyes she may have found a way to recognize him based on that similar quality. Alas, she had found her eyes to be that same warm brown that seemed to be ever present in the faces of the few men she had seen her life.

Mama had said that they had both once resided in a great house with many men, women, and children but that they had left soon after Grace had been born.

Grace saw tears in her mother's green eyes when she spoke of her previous home and so would make every effort to avoid the subject or divert her mother's attentions when the subject did somehow come up.

Now, thinking of her mother Grace could feel water pooling in her own clay brown eyes. She did not know why she was so sad. Her mother was only sleeping. And even when she did wake Grace felt certain that her mother would require assistance to lift herself. She had gotten so thin… and yet she would not eat, though Grace had attempted many times to share her smalls meals will her mother.

Grace had ventured into town for the specific purpose of seeking help to hoist in her mother up. In the past the method of lifting Mama by herself had been successful in rousing the light haired woman but for some reason today it had not been working. Her mother's weight some how felt heavier than it had in days past. It had frightened Grace so much so that she had ignored her Mama's long taught warnings and had rushed past the leafy green trees surrounding the house she and her mother occupied and followed the unfamiliar path into town.

Grace clutched her doll, Sally, close to her chest as her lips trembled. Her worry had fled from her for a moment as her wide eyes took in the sight of the bustling street before her.

She had never seen so many people in one place. In truth on the rare occasions that they had ever met anyone on the road Grace's mother had either pulled Grace against her back, hiding her from view, or rushed to take cover wherever possible.

After such experiences, the smells and sights of town were quite overwhelming for young Grace, who stood quite at standstill unable to sort through the flurry of thoughts and simulation presented before her.

Her fingers curled more tightly around Sally's soft, soil stained body. Grace was about to step forward when someone pushed by her, then suddenly she felt as though she had been carried off by a force stronger than herself as she jostled and tripped over her feet, knocking against the legs of one man to the skirts of a lady, her vision blurred and hearing muffled as the crowd seemed to spin around her dizzy form.

All at once she hit something with quite more force and was sent spilling on to the dust covered ground. Grace felt as though her breath had been stolen as she hit the hard dirt and gasped for air when she sat up and attempted to catch her bearings.

"Look what you've done!" There was a voice speaking above her. Blinking spots from her eyes Grace could first see the feet of the men standing in front of her sprawled out body, then staring up she could see that they were looking at each other with laughter in their eyes. Just like mama and I used to…

Grace felt her bare hands grip the dirt around her, blindly searching for Sally, who must have fallen from her grasp when she had tumbled to the ground.

"Oh no. Look what you've done…" the voice that had been laughing before, spoke with gentleness now.

Grace sniffed, her cheeks were wet. She was trying to be a good girl. Ladies do not cry, least of all in public her mother would say.

"My god! Isn't that a darkie?" Another surprised voice spoke up.

"Oh, girl, come now. Do not cry." The first man who had spoken sounded much nearer now.

"But look at her. I daresay I've never seen such black skin. Have you?" The other man persisted with wonder in his voice, which for some reason caused Grace's tears to increase in volume and made it difficult for her to keep her mouth from gasping out a sob.

Her bonnet had fallen off. Mother had said never to be so foolish in public. And now… mother…

Another gasp escaped her as she did best to hold back another cry.

"Will you shut up!" The male voice that crouched to meet her bit out harshly, causing her to jerk back in fear. "No, no, little bird, not you. I meant my cousin, it seems that he has quite forgotten his manners." Grace felt a hand brushing against her cheek, water in her eyes was clearing and she was beginning to regain some sight. "There that's better."

Her brown eyes took in the picture of a smooth face, with dark hair, and eyes that reminded her of a warm black night.

"Is this yours, my girl?" He asked with a smile on his mouth, as he lifted Sally into view.

Grace moved faster than she thought possible to restore her baby doll to her rightful place at her chest.

Clearing his throat, the man continued, "Now, you must endeavour to be more careful when walking these streets little one. You wouldn't want another lumbering oaf knocking you off your lovely little feet again would you?" He carried smiling though the man accompanying him scoffed and grumbled under his breath. The dark man then stood to his full height and held out a hand to Grace, to help her up.

Still rather dazed Grace was sluggish to take the offer. Her small hand slipped into his. She made a note of how the contrast in their meeting skin did not seem so great as the difference between her own and her mother's.

As she stood she also noted that this 'man' did not seem as tall as others in the sea of people surrounding them. It occurred to her small mind that perhaps this was a child as well. Still, a child who was older and a fair bit taller than her, it could be that he could help with mama!

"I believe, as we are the parties who caused the injury we would be remiss to not escort you back your family or to your home if that is where you prefer." The boy spoke, calmly ignoring his cousin's prodding at his back.

Though he had said many words at a speed that had been difficult for her to comprehend, Grace thought of how her mother had taught her to speak to people and attempted to respond in kind.

"Sir," she said with a lisp and her voice smaller than what five-year old's ought to have been, though she could not have known it. The gentleman seemed to lean in to hear her. "I came to town without mama's saying so." Her mouth quivered as one who is guilty of a capital offense, "But I had no choice. She- she would not wake."

Grace could speak no further, once again a fear she could not explain had filled her and the water that had cleared her eyes seemed to return. She gazed helpless up at the two boys who seemed speak to one another without talking.

"Can you direct us to your home?" The light haired one asked, his voice now gentle as well.

As yet unable to speak, Grace simply nodded her head.

"Lead the way," the dark-haired cousin spoke, motioning his arm to suggest they journey together.

Grace nodded again but felt her feet were stuck by that strange fear to the ground.

"Is something the matter?" The dark cousin knelt before her once more.

"M-my feet will not move." Grace barely whimpered, confused and confounded by her body.

The boy sighed, the worry moving from his brow and turning to understanding. As though she were floating, she felt him lift her against his body. The single gesture held the feeling of relief for Grace, so similar to that of a hug that she could help but to nestle into his shoulder, with one eye peaking at the road ahead.

* * *

The boys came upon her and her mother's home, after some unintended misdirection on Grace's part.

Having caught a the briefest of glimpses at the homes in town, her home no longer seemed so tall as she remembered, the walls not so sturdy neither.

As they crossed the threshold into the stone shelter, following behind the blue-eyed cousin, Grace suddenly felt that she could not look. She turned her head further against the shoulder of the boy who was holding her. She sensed his hold on her tighten in response.

"Is she…?" The voice of the boy holding her vibrated through Grace as his question trailed off.

Grace knew her mother would not have had the strength to move on her own, she must still be in the far corner of the room, next to their two books and across from fire pit where Mama used to cook their meals and burn wood for warmth in winter.

Grace knew that her mother was there, no different from when she had left to go to town, yet she could not make herself look.

Soothing circles were being rubbed on her back, she had the impression that she was being rocked.

"We must call for the doctor." She recognized the light-haired boy speaking from further in the room. "For whatever good it will do…" He added quietly, in a melancholy tone which caused Grace to cling to Sally and the boy harder.

"I will take her out." The dark boy spoke in reply to his cousin.

"I will join you I think." The other voice began to sound rather sickly. There was the sound of a sharp inhale as Grace felt the cool breeze and saw the light behind her eyelids change when they stepped out of doors.

It seemed that the light-haired cousin had to catch his breath by gasping for it, meanwhile Grace caught hers by keeping time of the steady heartbeat resting under her ear.

"Come, Ross." The blue-eyed boy sounded as though he were drawing closer. "Cousin, we must walk back to fetch the doctor. Your arms must be weary, let me take her."

Immediately Grace began to shake.

"At present, Francis, I do not think that will be possible."

Her fingers grew hot with pain as they held impossibly tighter to the chest she was nestled against. Her hearing seemed to grow muted once more, except for the rhythm of the heartbeat next to her ear. It may well have been the only sound that mattered, it was the only sound keeping her breathing.

* * *

All too soon, Grace was taken away. Away from her mother, her home, the only life she had ever known.

It was dark and the boys had hired a carriage to carry themselves home. Grace did not question why she was still with them, she did not question why she was not more enthralled by her first ride in a carriage, she did not question anything so long as her face could remain pressed into the soft fabric of the boy's clothing and she could count the beats of his heart to keep her emotions from overrunning her.

Grace had no way to convey the reasons for her actions, it would not be until she had grown some years that she would be able to reflect on them at all. As a child however, she was even more ill equipped to understand herself. She knew only that she could not seem to settle herself and the arms of this stranger offered some form of a safe harbour that she could not let go of… not now.

Her tension had eased enough that her hearing had returned for a moment during the ride. When the light-haired boy had spoken.

"Well, I suppose I can speak to father about keeping her. Lord knows what he's going to say about my bringing a darkie to Trenwith."

She had felt the boy holding her scoff at that.

'Keeping? Trenwith?' Panicked thoughts had rushed through her head. 'Him?' She saw blue eyes instead of the warm dark night in her mind and whimpered.

She had been aware of a movement above, if she could guess she would imagine that the boy holding her was looking down at her buried face.

"Perhaps he won't have to say anything at all." He mumbled, a hand had brushed some hair back from her face.

"What can you mean? Surely, you don't mean to take her with you? I grant you I have a special fondness for Nampara House and for Uncle Joshua but you cannot think that you would be able to sustai…"

The light haired boy had stopped speaking abruptly. Grace did not know why he had stopped but she did not care, she only clung with more force to the fabric she that she had been nuzzling into.

"I- Well I only mean surely she will be more comfortable installed at Trenwith. With maids to tend to her as well as set her up for some useful position in life." Though his voice had been tight and he had coughed before speaking Francis had gone on, "And if not at Trenwith, I'm sure father can exercise use of some connection to set her up with some position appropriate for her unique… station."

There had been a pause, some more hair had been pushed away from her face. "Perhaps you are right, Francis. We shall see what Uncle Charles advises on the subject."

But that had not come to pass, upon arrival at Trenwith the dark boy had attempted to dislodge Grace from his collar much to the disruption of the household.

Uncle Charles had been in such a state that Grace would later think on the ordeal with no small amount of shame. It was perfectly understandable that given the violence of her arrival at Trenwith that Grace had not been permitted a place nor even entrance at the front door at the great house and had been sent away almost immediately with Ross to someplace called Nampara.

In either case when Grace had settled, she had not a care for knowing where she was going.

The boy holding her spoke in an annoyed manner, the same as mother would use when Grace had ventured out to climb trees or waded into the pond nearby to catch toads.

"You've set us in a right state, little bird." He huffed, though he continued to stroke her hair. "I do hope you are worth the trouble." He grumbled.

As they drew further away from whatever Trenwith was, Grace could feel herself ease slightly. Her fingers, stiff from holding with so much of her strength, loosened from their posts.

"Ahh…" the boy spoke as he drew her back in his lap, though only a small amount as she had not fully released the front of his clothing. "There you are." He gave her another gentle smile, "I almost believed you'd welded yourself to my coat." She did not understand his meaning, so she only sniffed in response, her head bobbing with weariness. "You must be quite tired." He pinched her nose with a smirk on his face. "Worry not we will there in mere minutes."

He must have seen the question in her eyes for he explained, "Nampara. My home." His voice and smile warm, "and yours now too, if I have any say about it." His dark gaze lift to see outside the window of the coach. "Here we are."

* * *

Joshua Poldark was not precisely a god fearing man.

He had very little in his life that proved faith a useful investment of time one way or the other. He wondered at times if that had been the reason for so much that had happened in his life.

His grey eyes wandered to the likenesses that sat upon the mantle over the fire that had been lit in his family's humble hearth.

'Twas the lot of the second son.

Nothing could come from grumbling and groaning about it. No, Joshua had swallowed his fate many a time. And what had he earned for it?

A mine that had thus far turned a respectable profit, a family home that though not as grand as Trenwith had been filled with love, a life built of mutual respect for those who worked the land under his protection.

With a sip of brandy from the tumbler in his hands, Joshua found his gaze returning to the mantle of the fireplace.

So perhaps he would spend longer at the tables then was considered dignified for a gentleman of his standing? Perhaps he had taken to drinking brandy, near a bottle a night? So perhaps Jud had approached him as gently as that rough man could possibly manage to express concerns he shared with Prudie over 'their master's wellbeing'?

Bugger them all.

Joshua's eyes trained on the brandy remaining in his shallow glass, before consuming it in one swig.

He was reaching for the bottle to fill the empty glass again before he had even finished swallowing.

Bugger them all.

He filled the glass, his hand shaking enough to cause some to spill to the floor as he poured.

Casting his mournful eye down, he sighed. A waste.

Once the bottle was safely set on the table before him, Joshua returned to nursing his thoughts and his drink.

He was interrupted however by the loud bang of the front door being swung open. At once he knew it must have been his son, who had yet to learn that he could leave an impression without blundering around like a great beast wherever he went.

Still, regardless of the abruptness of it, the arrival of his son brought a smile to Joshua's lips.

Though only twelve years of age the lad had developed into rather good company. Many a night they would stay up until the early hours exchanging jokes, discussing the tenants, and playing cards.

Joshua had to admit that aside from the company he felt some increased relief at his son's return on this occasion as he had felt a twinge of worry when the boy had not come to supper that evening. Meals were of great importance to a growing man, the notion that his eldest would intentionally miss a chance to eat was disconcerting to say the least.

"Father." He heard his son call softly.

Joshua furrowed his greying eyebrows, it was not like his son to try to keep his voice low. "In here boy."

"Father!" Ross repeated, appearing breathless in the doorway of the parlour. Joshua quickly assessed his son's form for any sign of injury, his worried mind paying little heed for anything else. He found nothing amiss, though he noted a bundle held close to the boy's breast.

"What is it my dear boy?"

Ross took a breath, before stepping further into the room.

In firelight, Joshua could see how much of his mother the boy had in him. Those dark eyes that could be so inviting one moment and filled with cutting fury the next.

Ross was a Poldark through and through, but Joshua would grant that no one could mistake Ross for anything but his mother's son either. Joshua looked away from his son to the fire at his side, drowning the uncomfortable lump forming in his throat with more brandy.

"Father." Ross spoke, drawing his Father's attention back.

The older man's brow creased in consideration again. From this near distance, he could discern that the bundle Ross was holding in a blanket was near half the boy's height and had a mass of brown curls.

"What is this Ross?"

The boy's face as always was quite composed, but in his expression Joshua could see that he too was at a loss.

"It's a girl."

"A girl?"

The boy nodded, taking a seat opposite his father with the bundle, now known as a girl, still huddled against himself and proceeded in relaying the story of how he had come into possession of such a pitiful little creature.

As he spoke Joshua felt his heart warm and break at the true goodness of his boy.

"So… father I was hoping she could stay on here. Learn how to do chores and keep house until she's grown and can be set to the tasks properly."

"You did, did you?"

"Francis and I had thought to put the matter to the care of Uncle Charles, but she… the girl had become quite attached I'm afraid." Ross stated, demonstrating this attachment as he tried in vain to remove the girl from his body. Judging by the size of her as Joshua could see it, he assumed her to be four mayhaps five years of age.

"Aye." Joshua's calculating watch sat on the girl. "That I see boy." He nodded at the girl's apparent grip strength. "And so, based on this attachment you saw fit to bring her here and give us another soul to tend to under this roof?"

The light in Ross' demeanour fell. "Father…"

Joshua raised a hand to stop Ross' speech. "I do not begrudge the emotion that may have led you to this decision Ross. I understand the loss of…" his voice caught, his eyes swept back to the fireplace, he did not wish to see the sting in his son's face as he spoke "…of your dear mother and of Claude in such rapid succession may have given you heart to take up such a cause as this. It is a right honourable endeavour, but she will not fix the loss you feel boy. She will not fill the space left by your mother or your little brother."

Moments of quiet passed with nothing but the crackling of the fire. Finally, Joshua raised his heavy gaze to see his son's face set in a way that almost made him mistake the boy for a man.

"I understand what you say father. No pious act will bring back those we hold most dear." Ross spoke his voice low and determined. "But no act of true kindness, should be done in hopes of such a bargain. What I set before you, Father, is an opportunity to offer a kindness in its purest form, without any return except that another's life may be greatly improved."

In the face of such an impassioned speech by his young son Joshua had no choice but to at least entertain the boy's fancies for a few hours if not days. Perhaps the appearance of his honest consideration would ease the boy's conscience in time and allow of Joshua to figure some plan for the girl.

"Let me see her then."

The light that had gone from Ross' eyes flickered back to life. "Yes, Father." With more force and somewhat more success Ross managed pull the girl free from his clothing. "Come, little bird. If you meet him now, my father will let you stay here…" Ross bent his head, the girl had clearly whispered something in his ear because the boy responded. "Yes, with me."

Slowly the girl seemed to slip from Ross' lap, her small feet encased in burlap slippers touched the floor lightly, as though she did not want to disturb the dust that lay there.

Ross leaned forward to push the girl's bushy hair back, his mouth quirking in a smile as he met her eye. With a wink Ross turned the girl, who now with his promise had become quite pliable in his hold.

Joshua had taken a sip of his brandy and managed to hold it in when the girl's face came into full view. He squinted his eyes to ensure that he had not mistaken her colour in the dancing shadows of the fire.

"Ross…" He looked over the girl's shoulder at his son in surprise. Ross for his part only raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders, his hands still resting on the girl's arms. True, Joshua had seen his fair share of slaves in London, both freed and otherwise they seemed quite numerous in that sprawling city. In Cornwall he had not yet come across a black soul who had not only been passing through in service of a gentleman or who had been temporarily stowed away in some dark corner of a home.

"Her colouring did not come from her mother…" Ross offered the only explanation he could provide.

The girl's fingers were playing with a dirty rag doll, her eyes were cast down preoccupied with watching her nervous fidgeting hands. Joshua knew now that he had judged correctly, unless girls grew much different to boys, she could be no more than five years of age. Her simple dress looked rough and stained. It appeared as though she may have outgrown it some, as the material barely reached her mid-calf. He could not make out much more of her skinny frame as the blanket covered her arms and something of her upper body.

"Come here, girl." He grunted, in a manner that had caused the little thing to jerk back to step closer to Ross.

"Go on… he can be quite pleasant, in spite of appearances." Ross urged with a small grin, gently pushing her forward as though she were a boat being pushed out to open water.

Each step was tentatively taken, thankfully Ross' seat was not far from Joshua's and soon enough the girl stood merely a foot away from the older man.

"Now then, girl, let me see you." Joshua spoke this time making sure to keep his voice softer though just as demanding.

To her credit the girl lifted her head, eyes meeting his in curious fear.

He had to allow that she was not an unpleasant looking thing, despite her colouring. There was something a little wild about her, something that felt of the land and sea that he so loved in Cornwall.

"There we are. Now, what do we call you?" The girl stared at up at him with confusion clear on her face. "What is your name?" He tried again.

The girl's resolve looked to break at being asked another question, she turned her head to look at Ross, who nodded for her to answer.

Coming back to look at Joshua, the girl's tiny bell of a voice lisped a reply. "My name is Grace, sir." The girl gave a surprisingly inoffensive curtesy, concluded by her adding, "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

But neither father nor son noticed after she had spoken her name. The girl could have set the house alight and it would be likely that Joshua would have still been mirroring his son as they gaped in shock at one and another.

That name had sent a lightening bolt straight through to Joshua's heart. He could see by his son's reaction that Ross had not encouraged the girl to say that name as a cruel trick or ploy to allow her favour. The boy was just as winded as he was.

After catching his bearings Joshua let his gaze fall to the girl shuffling her feet before him. "D-did you say Grace, girl?"

She bit her lip and nodded her head, the strength to meet his eye had obviously left her as her gaze now followed her feet, which were anxiously mopping at the spilt brandy droplets on the floor.

Joshua placed his finger under her chin, lifting her face close to his, he bent forward in his seat. Seeing that past her fear her eyes were not entirely unpleasant either, like browned butter maybe? With a splash of the green ocean brewing in them.

"Yes." He said without fully realizing that he had spoken. Clearing his throat, Joshua fell back into his seat. The girl took this gesture as leave to scurry back into Ross' arms, though this time her face was turned enough to spy Joshua from where she sat. "You are away to Harrow in a year's time and I will need the help and I daresay the company. The house will be to far too quiet, after…" his eyes had travelled to the mantle again of their own accord. "You are off. So yes, for now she may stay. I will speak with Prudie in the morning and see what can be done with her."

Perhaps it would be a small blessing for Ross to have a pet to distract himself with until he went to school. Without Claude he had been unlike himself, though he associated with Francis regularly, something had been missing from Ross. Perhaps this girl could help, Joshua thought to himself. There could be no chance of any real attachment forming, and he would send her to a more suitable arrangement when Ross was away and had his worldview broadened.

For now Joshua took some enjoyment in Ross giving a bark of victorious laughter and rocking in his chair with the girl clasped securely in his arms. "Thank you, Father. You will not regret this. I believe she will fit well here and bring good tidings."

"I hope so my boy. I hope so." Joshua smiled at Ross' excitement over his success. The girl's head had begin to bob back into Ross' chest, Joshua saw her large doe eyes drooping with sleep despite her best efforts to keep them open. "Now, what to do with her tonight…"

The thought of installing her in Claude's room seemed off putting to say the least, and the guest rooms had been left unattended and rather grim for a child since the passing of Ross' mother.

"Perhaps the settee here in the parlour for the night?" Ross seemed to have guessed and agreed with his Father's line of reason. "Until a more permanent situation can be found."

"Agreed, my boy." Joshua raised his tumbler in a salute and swallowed down his last drink for the night with a grin to match his boy's, casting a glance at the little dark-skinned girl soundly asleep in his son's arms.

'Twill work out in the end, the older gentleman reflected as he fell to sleep that night in his bed chamber.

Fell to sleep without hearing the creaking of floorboards in the hall as small feet pattered to the only room that with a candle's light still glowing from under the doorway. He remained asleep as a small voice squeaked out that she had grown frightened from a dream and as a small body had crawled into the arms of a boy who had resolved to return her to the settee once she had fallen asleep again. He did not hear the boy say that he could not possibly call the girl 'Grace' as it had been the name of his late mother, though boy of course did not explain this to the girl. He would not hear the other nights that came to pass where the girl would seek the soothing beat of a familiar heart to obtain a small semblance of rest. And he most certainly did not hear the boy agree to call the girl by her second name, Loren, or as her lisp caused her to mispronounce it… Wren.

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**So please feel free to let me know your thoughts. Hopefully they're not all awful or about the terrible editing :)**

**I'll do my best to update as much as I can, like I said until then feel free to follow the links in the bio if you like my writing style and want to see my other stories on the site.**

**I'm off to listen to another episode of Poldark Podcast (those girl's are amazing) and to try to write some more.**

**Wish me luck! Love you all!**


	2. Chapter 2: Leap

**Hey anyone out there! I hope the first chapter went well. I know it was quite a long one, so here's a smaller one to snack on for a bit.**

**Please let me know what you think and please excuse my editing and lumpy writing. Thanks!**

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**Chapter Two – Leap**

"Come, little bird! I will catch you!" Ross called up to the dark haired girl who had somehow trapped herself in a tree.

She had been quite the little oddity since her arrival at Nampara House two months ago.

Quiet as a mouse she had somehow become everyone's shadow, though in truth, she had been his in particular since her very first night at his father's home.

Ross supposed that he would have been irritated by her near constant presence if it were not for her lack of speech and her unassuming, unoffended air. She was not like Claude. Which Ross found to be a sort of comfort and consternation. She did not seem to follow him with the intent of disturbing his peace, rather her need to follow appeared to be born from a lack of knowing what to otherwise do with herself and from a sense of finding sort of familiarity in her new life.

When around the home if Prudie or Father called 'Grace', she appeared with a countenance of sincere and quiet obedience. When Ross called for her by 'Wren' or 'little bird' she also materialized without any sort of commotion, though it was a rare occasion when Ross had to call for her as she was seldom far from his side.

Father had enquired as to any connection she or the woman she had called mother may have been known to have in Truro and had pressed Uncle Charles to find any bond they may have had to any other being. Both efforts had been in vain, however.

Not that there was any rush, she did not complain or ask for anything, though Ross could not fathom what she would be in want of. Prudie and Jud had cleared a guest room for the new tenant at Nampara House, insisting that they could not mind the girl themselves in their cottage and strongly implied that they had no capacity as such after a long day's work. Prudie did help to dress each morning at least. As yet Father had not had opportunity to find clothing for her though he promised that when he next went to Truro he would find something suitable. Verity, ever caring, had also offered to help on that score as Father had not roused to the task will much vigour. As yet, the girl dressed in clothing that Ross had outgrown, trousers and shirts, though nothing that had belonged to Claude of course.

With her hands and eyes always distracted by her rag doll, she would remain quiet as he walked the lands of his father, she would not argue when he would bring her to the edge of the cliff though she was clearly frightened and would wordlessly seek to be lifted into his arms, she would stand some distance away and remain where he had placed her when he and Francis would go riding.

It had come to the point now where Ross could leave the house in the morning without any doubt in his mind that his little shadow, as Francis called her, was not far behind.

This, of course, upset Prudie to no end. She had at first been quite pleased at the thought of having a housemaid to train up and share some of her load. But with the little bird constantly wandering off with Ross she had been rather put out. Father had spoken with Ross about the expectations of the girl while she remained in the house, and though Ross had attempted to convince the odd little thing to mind what Prudie said he found that she would appear at his side each day and, with less frequency, most nights.

At the age of eleven Ross did not have the mind to understand the consequences of the girl coming to share his bed in the night. He could not see beyond her being a child in need of comfort, much as Claude had been when he grew frightened of the winds that whistled by his window at night. Nonetheless, he still had the presence of mind to not mention the girl's visits to his chamber in the middle of the night to Father or Francis even. Ross somehow knew it would not play well but did not pursue the reason for why any further. So long as he returned to her own lodging prior to Prudie's arrival at the homestead, he saw no reason to bring to light the occurrence.

She had found him reading a diverting swashbuckling story the first night and had not seemed to settle, despite her nearness to him as before. He had read aloud that night to distract her and himself in part from what he had witnessed that day. The following nights he had discovered not by her words but by the unhappy squeezing of her hand against his night shirt that she appreciated hearing stories read to her. On occasion he would pause to see if she had fallen asleep only to find her fingers twisting against his chest and her cheek nestling over his heart, silently urging him to continue. It was here that the odd creature had grown something akin to a small kind of confidence. On some nights, silent but without hesitation she would pull the hand he held the in book down low enough so that she too could glance at the pages that he was reading from.

Whether she could understand the words on the page Ross did not know. He did not think to ask the lisping thing, he simply assumed that she wished for something to look at as she drifted off to sleep. He could only ever see the top of her head when she curled against him, which was not wholly disagreeable as the girl's hair though abundant and wild was soft as it brushed his chin when he read.

As Ross looked up now, he could see that same hair blowing in the salt wind like a halo around her small brown face. She may as well have been a cat for how large and reflective her brown eyes appeared in that moment as they analysed him.

"Come, Wren." He held up his arms once more. "I will catch you. I swear it." When she nodded her head but did not move. Ross sighed and let his head fall back. It was no great distance, she could likely jump down herself and land safely on the golden grass. Ross would have climbed into the elm young tree himself to rescue her, but its low branches did not look as though they would bear his weight. With another sigh, he raised his arms and appealed again. "Have I ever given you cause to doubt my word?" She shook her head and with no more urging jumped.

* * *

"I promise there is nothing to be scared of, I will hold your hand the entire time."

Grace… Wren. She did not know what to call herself entirely. She had earned more names than she had ever been called by Mama, who had used the name darling more than she had ever used Grace. Mister Francis who had at first meeting called her darkie, had stopped doing so in favour of using Grace or more often 'little shade', the second name she did not understand but did not dare question. Miss Verity had only called her 'little dear' when she came to visit Master Joshua at the big house. Miss Prudie had called her Grace but again she mostly called her 'little scamp' when the Masters were not present. Mister Jud called her darkie, unless they were in the company of Mister Ross. The men who walked the Master's lands did not call her anything, though some did look at her in the same manner that Jud did. Mister Ross said that the men were miners and worked in something called a mine looking for shiny metal. Grace had asked a few tentative questions to Mister Ross to better understand, but he had only frowned distracted by the saddle he had been fixing to his horse, Wallace, that morning and had directed her to Master Joshua, so she had let go of the subject of whatever a mine was.

Master Joshua used her name to call her, though he tended to shout for her Grace did not mind the way he said her name so much anymore as it no longer startled her. The quality in his voice when he said it reminded her of when Mama used to call her back home. It filled her with a feeling that made her sad and happy at the same time.

Grace plucked at a frayed string on Sally's arm, her nose growing a sniff and her mouth trembling.

Right now, Grace was with Mister Ross and she supposed that he knew by the most names, though he had yet to call her by her first name. He usually asked for her by Wren or 'little bird'. He had laughed when she had told him her second name, he had pinched her nose and said that it was quite perfect.

Her names had never concerned her before her arrival at the big house. But now she wondered why it was perfect. And she wondered if she really was so little, as everyone appeared to be fond of pointing out her smallness. She had yet to see another child of her size around the big house, Master Joshua often remarked that Grace may do better in a place with more children her age to which Mister Ross responded with much disapproval and more frowning.

In fact, it was just such a conversation that had led Mister Ross to taking her hand and drawing her out to the sand on this sunny morning. He had been discussing her newly admitted fear of the crashing waves on the beach and Master Joshua had replied with something to do with the roughness of boys.

Mister Ross had removed his waistcoat, undershirt, stockings, and boots laying them on the sand as the other boys Mister Ross' age, who were sons of the miners that worked on Master Joshua's lands, had done as well.

Grace could see them calling out for Mister Ross to join them beyond the white peaks rising from the blue-green water.

"Do not mind them, little bird. No need to be shy. We'll leave you in your clothes." The dark haired boy spoke with humour in his voice, as he tugged off her slippers. "All you have to do is float." Without warning he lifted her off the warm sand, one hand beneath her back and the other under her knees, causing her to drop Sally to the ground.

Though she felt secure in his hold, a cold fear entered her as they approached the foamy edge of the ocean. The crashes seemed so painful to her sensitive mind. She squirmed and tugged, righting herself in his arms and wrapping her legs around his narrow waist to avoid touching the violent blue waves beneath her as he, undeterred, waded further in.

"Wren, will you stop. I won't have you about my shoulders like some trained monkey. There's nothing to be scared of, it's not even that cold." Mister Ross said with annoyance in his voice, as he pulled her grip away from his neck with increasing harshness. "Wren I said stop!" But she would not, her normally compliant attitude had reversed entirely upon her entrance into yet another unfamiliar world.

Suddenly she felt herself sink and before she knew what had happened her body had been submerged up to her chest in the water. Her legs and arms clung tighter to the balmy damp skin of Mister Ross, she looked down to see that he was crouching and creating a lap for her to sit on as they bobbed along in the shallow depths.

Grace clung to him still, though her eyes wandered to assess this venture that Mister Ross had forced her into. She noticed how the water was clear beneath them, so she could see her and Mister Ross' breeches under the surface. Yet somehow the colour of the water remained blue as the sky above, so blue it seemed to colour Mister Ross' dark features with lightness. Her body felt warm submerged to the chest under the waves.

Moment by moment Grace felt a new sensation fill her. This was something apart to the feeling of when she had walked in the shallows of the small, still pond by her home. Here she felt her body rising and falling with each movement of the waves rolling in behind her. A steady rhythm, like she had found in Mister Ross.

"There we are." He smiled at her, "Not so bad is it?"

She nodded her head in agreement, Grace could feel the tips of her hair grow heavy as they met the rising and falling water.

Beyond his shoulder, pale in comparison to her arm wrapped around it, she spied the rocky looming cliffs that had frequently caused her such fright. Mister Ross would oft bring to the edge where her legs would grow so weak she could not rightly stand. From this distance she perceived them as rather less terrifying and their height not so big. The idea of standing at the top of them still caused her stomach to twist but a new appreciation for their rugged splendour was colouring her opinion of them. Her nose wrinkled as her frenzy continued to subside and she absorbed more of the elements around her.

"Yes, the smell of the salt is a right side stronger here than on the beach I'm afraid." Mister Ross nodded as though she had spoken her distaste out loud. "But it is a scent that you grow accustom to."

Grace nodded once again as though she understood what Mister Ross meant. She did not worry herself with comprehending him, she found that she would prefer to dwell on the sensation of weightless in her body.

"Now, I promised you a float." Mister Ross said again. "You must trust me, little bird." He waited for Grace to nod. "I will keep my hands at your back and you will simply lay still. I will not drop you nor will I let you go. Understand?" Grace nodded again.

Slowly Mister Ross helped Grace to lay flat on the surface of the water. She felt a shard of panic when her hearing became distorted as the water lapped against her ears. But Mister Ross did as he promised and held her up, so she did her best to be good as Mama had taught her. Her brown eyes fixed on the bottom of Mister Ross' chin for awhile, before travel to the bright blue sky where the sun began to sting her sight and causing her to close her eyes against the glare.

After a time in such a fashion, it was no longer difficult to keep that threat of panic at bay. Grace did not know how long she had been floating that day but so long as Mister Ross taught her how to keep her head above water Grace knew she should like to remain cradled and rocked by the ocean till the end of days.

And this is how two years passed. Mister Ross had gone to a place called a school named Harrow a short ten months after her arrival at the big house, and did not have a proper long visit home until those two years had passed. In that time Grace had found herself busying her mind and hands learning the workings of such a strange land and such a people as those she had come to be living with.

'Twas also so that near every day since his first leaving Nampara House, Grace had found herself at the soothing sea grateful to have crossed the path of Ross Poldark.

* * *

**...there you are. A short one. Hopefully it's a nice one. As you'll discover I enjoy fluff, so there may be a few of more of these coming.**

**Please let me know what you think. Always appreciate any encouragement or constructive criticism. Apologies for the editing.**

**Thank you!**


	3. Chapter 3: Lines

**Hey anyone out there! So guess I'm just gonna keep riding this train. Know I should probably hold for if… when writer's block starts again but my brain has other ideas.**

**This chapter is more rough than the other's so please forgive the editing and writing in places. I'll probably come back to smooth it out more when I can bear to read it.**

**Once again please let me know what you think about this meandering story. **

**Thanks!**

* * *

**Chapter Three – Lines**

"Confound that girl!" Prudie smacked the dough she'd been forming down on the kitchen table.

That skinny thing was like to be running about with Master Ross and Francis now they had returned for Winter break.

All elbows and knees that girl was, clumsy and daft if Prudie had ever saw such a creature. Here she was supposed to be helping and lessening the load for Jud and she. But where was the scamp?

"Not here, that be certain." Prudie grumbled, shaping the overworked dough into small balls for rolls.

The middle-aged housekeeper had done her best to temper the girl's obvious excitement when Master Joshua had remarked on the nearness of the young Master's return.

Though the dark-skinned child had remained as quiet as ever, her expression and posture had betrayed her enthusiasm. The little brat thought herself something special and gave herself airs. She'd only hurt herself in the end and show Master Joshua where Prudie had failed in her learning of the girl.

Funny little thing that she was. Always running off to the ocean even in the coldest of weather, and Prudie, her poor self always chasing after the young thing for forgetten a chore or to put on a cloak so as to not catch her death. Foolish girl!

"Tedn't right." She gave the dough a rough rip.

"Tedn't just." Jud spoke from where sat in the corner of the kitchen.

"Tedn't fair." Prudie lifted her head and pushed her unruly hair out of her hot face to nod in agreement with Jud.

'Twas a wonder the girl hadn't met her end yet. Even Jud said so. Her following him about the place, like to get her head knocked off. It come natural to her. Why! Not two weeks ago for the monthly shop she had gone and caused a scene in Truro too, creating a stir amongst the fanfare, her blasted eyes watering at Prudie when one of the passing ladies had pulled on her hair. Prudie could hardly blame the woman for having her fingers ensnared in the nest of curls hanging off the whimpering girl's head, the brown mass somehow seemed stand up from her head only fall down the girl's shoulders at the same time. It was a wonder her brush did not break when she attempted to comb it… not that Prudie had taken to the task as of late. The weary housekeeper recalled how the girl had surprised the whole house with her screeching that night when Prudie had tried to free her comb from the tangle on the girl's brown head and then how the Master had begged an end to the commotion. Which was no skin off Prudie's nose, if she said so herself… 'twasn't as though she took any pleasure in tending the girl like she was some queen or the like.

Who did she imagine she was? Prudie puffed out a breath, her cheeks afire with the exercise of kneading after a spell of being away from the practice.

True enough the little wretch's small hands were open to help, but that was when she could be found.

And despite this, Prudie had even tried to soften the blow of Master Ross' return by telling Grace... by telling the girl to remember her place and to keep by her side.

The clatter of horse hooves coming up the road however seemed to cause the girl to erupt with foolishness and she had left Prudie's watch. Running off like who knows what to meet the horse and rider at the gate, as though she'd had a right to… being that she seemed to think that she be his special pet.

What entitled her to such an opinion of herself Prudie could not say.

Yes, the girl had not wept but seemed to mourn in her quiet almost unnoticeable way when Master Ross had been kept from coming home for anymore than a week's time all last year. It had been in favour of having the lad apprentice on some useful endeavour in London on the advice of the headmaster at Harrow. The suggestion looked to be in response to some naughty doing with toads during the school year, or so Prudie had heard.

Though Master Ross had visited for a full week in during the past year the girl's mood was still affected, so much so Master Joshua took additional effort to try to console her and even had words, so Prudie overheard again, with Master Charles on subject of bringing the boy home despite the Headmaster's corrective recommendation. In the end the logical like thinking of Master Charles had prevailed. As it should have, the frets of a slave girl should not trouble the likes of Master Joshua. He had enough to worry himself with, what with the tenants, and keeping of the mine. On more than one occasion Prudie had entered the parlour where the poor Master had tears in his eyes and well-worn letters from his son in hand.

The woman sniffed at the memory. 'Twas a crying shame… A man like that, so alone and brought so low.

He did not need the girl nudging her way into his lap as he sat at the fire, nor did he need her stealing his books from under his nose as he tried to read them neither. And to that effect, it did his old broke heart no service to have him chase her 'round the house like some sort of mad bull, even if it was one of the only instances when the girl would giggle and Master Joshua would allow himself a laugh.

If the girl had any sense, she would realize that that the Master did not exist solely for her childish amusement and leave the kind man to his grief and his work.

Prudie had hoped the young Master's being away would have given the girl pause to reflect on her station. Alas, her hopes had been for naught. Especially with the manner in which Master Ross had managed to spoil her in his absence. It appeared that he had tasked both his cousins with amusing the girl while was held back for the apprenticeship set out by his Headmaster.

'Twas so that young Mister Francis had called on the girl regularly while he'd been home at Trenwith last Summer and Christmastime, with treats of orange and the like. Miss Verity had called often as well, enough to impress some more ladylike manners upon the girl during her frequent visits, however laughable they appeared coming from a black skinned creature.

Especially for all that the lessons had been worth upon the young Master's return to Nampara… Prudie shuddered to dwell on it now.

She again recalled how she had done her best to remind the girl to stay at her side, that Master Ross would have more important things to tend to than the little madam. For her part the girl had nodded.

But at the sound of horse hooves upon the sunset road, it seemed the normally timid girl had lost all her senses and had vanished from Prudie's grasp to meet the traveller.

Off she went and Prudie had watched with wide eyes going from the face of her patiently waiting employer to that of a surprised Jud, who had been just outside the open door, standing at the ready to take Master Ross' horse to the stable.

The clatter had quelled for a moment, then begun again to move closer to the house.

Master Ross appeared soon after in the door, at least a head taller than when he'd last been home, with pink glow of sun behind him and that stick of a girl buried against his chest and secure in his arms.

Silly girl! Prudie huffed. As she pulled at a particularly dry bit of dough. "Grace!" She shouted in frustration.

"Yes, ma'm." A voice so soft and as though from nowhere had spoken from behind her, causing Prudie to jump in her skin and turn with further irritation in her expression.

"Judas girl!" Prudie scolded the sneaky thing, who was standing in the harsh grey light of the open kitchen door leading to the yard. "What'd ye mean, creepin' up on me like tha'? Ye' gonna give me palpations."

"We always be tellin' ye' tah be more mindful." Jud admonished the girl, unmoving from his seat. "Can't see ye none in them shadows, so you must make yerself known."

Grace's mossy brown eyes filled with worry, "Sorry, ma'm. I was wringing out the last of washing. There is so much more since…" She murmured, trailing off with shame on her face.

A strange weight came over Prudie's chest at that expression. She quickly batted her flour covered hands against her apron to wave off the girl's unreasonable reaction. "Oh, come on girl! No need to sulk. Ye' just needn't come upon me so silent like." The girl chewed on her lip, the uncertainty clear on her. "Understand?" Prudie gave her the smallest up curve of her mouth.

The girl's face lightened slightly and she nodded.

"Now make yerself useful and help with these blooming rolls." Prudie directed the girl, placing the rolls she had already made back in the bowl so that the scamp could learn proper how to fix it. After all, soon enough she would be responsible for managing that daily task by herself too. Her type were meant to be suited to hard labour, and at any rate the girl was in her eighth year according to Master Ross. He'd said the girl had mentioned that her mother had given her a birthday only a few days before her cursed arrival at Nampara. Eight years of age already! Thinking of which, Prudie had to remember to find a stool tall enough for the girl to reach the washing line so she could fully complete that duty as well.

Prudie watched the girl, her eyes travelling to Jud who watched her too, some kind of look on them both as they surveyed her fixing the dough for supper. Though there weren't much she had mastered, what little she had learned they had learned her well in.

'Twas only just that their chests be a mite puffed at that.

It only be right… proper… fair.

* * *

Young John and Molly Martin had been annoyed with Grace for the past three weeks.

Grace knew this, because they had said so when they had poked their blond heads at the kitchen door that morning.

She had not the time to go with them and the some of the other children from the mining families on Nampara to climb the trees near the edge of the property. In her heart Grace knew that she should be more remorseful for neglecting her playmates, she could not even tell them that she was ignoring them for the sake of chores, rather she had given them up for the novelty of Mister Ross and Mister Francis.

During his last visit in the Summertime, though Grace had done nothing to compel such a vow, Mister Francis had given his word to teach Grace how to line fish when both he and Mister Ross had returned home. And despite the chill of the new year in the air and the choppy darkened water of the sea at Nampara Cove he had made every effort to keep that promise.

"Alright, do you remember what I said to you about fishing in the Winter months?"

Grace looked up at Mister Francis under the cloudy sky, as her mind worked out how phrase her response properly. His clear blue eyes shone with excitement at the prospect of this new venture, much as they had when he had dreamed up the idea to show her how to ride like a 'country lady' this past July. Master Joshua had grumbled but Mister Francis had thought it would be quite a fitting surprise for Grace to learn on Wallace herself rather than having her continue to share a seat with Mister Ross when he returned to Nampara. Grace still flushed with embarrassment at her awkwardness at mounting a saddle, and did not wish to disappoint him again.

"That it is difficult and dangerous and better to cast nets, especially for the Winter catch…" She watched as his soft, kindly face urged her on with a smile, "But that it did not mean we could not practice if we were careful."

"Correct." He clapped his hand on his knee and leaned forward to pinch her nose. "I must say you are quite bright for a such a little shade." A joking laugh left his lips, as Grace rubbed the tip of her nose where his fingers had squeezed. She did not mind the gesture, largely due to the good humour Mister Francis seemed to associate with it, but she would admit that it did not have the same gentleness of Master Joshua or Mister Ross when they executed the same the action.

Mister Francis raised his blue eyes to look up at the greying sky above the boat that they had been bobbing in with Mister Ross on the rolling water. Mister Ross had cast his line some time ago and had appeared to have fallen asleep with his hat over his face and his coat wrapped tight around himself. Mister Francis had convinced his cousin to come out to fish after a full month of his arrival home.

One night before he had departed from Nampara the light haired cousin had told Grace that he dare not go out on the water without Mister Ross. Grace had wanted to ask why but then Master Joshua had called for her to come and help him with his nightly reading. She had not gathered the courage to ask Mister Francis to clarify after so much time had passed, so she simply took heart in the fact Mister Ross had agreed to join them.

Grace tugged the cloak that Mister Ross had given her around her body to block the wind that was building in strength as it blew in across the water. Mister Ross had thrown it over her shoulders after he had noticed her teeth chattering even while she was under the protection of her own cloak, thick stockings, and winter dress. Mister Francis had too shed his cloak despite the cold, in fact his face looked rather pink with the exertion of his teaching and practice. His hair was a golden flame against the dull sky, as bright as his good spirits regardless of the lack of fish biting so far on this day. Grace watched Mister Francis, her thoughts of him always guarded but filled with care and respect for the gentle boy who had shown her so much kindness in the years since her arrival at Nampara. He and Miss Verity had been the most wonderful companions while Mister Ross had been away attending to his very important business. Despite her best efforts, Grace felt her stomach twist in thought of Miss Verity's presence. The lady was always generous and sweet but when with her Grace felt some ease to the ache of no longer having her mother, at least in some small part… and the ease was not entirely a comfortable sensation.

Grace shook her head to clear her thoughts.

"One day we will take you to a lake for some better sport. But for now let me see your form again." Mister Francis held up a simple rod to her that was shorter than his and Mister Ross'. "Remember to let the line go at the top of your cast."

Grace nodded her lip raw from her biting during her many failed attempts. Nervously she drew back her arm, she spied a twitch at Mister Ross' mouth from under the brim of his hat, causing her heart to flutter with self-doubt in addition to causing her to let go of the line too soon.

Mister Francis must have seen her distress as he was quick to comfort her. "Do not worry yourself, little shade. I must say you are better at this than I had ever been at your age."

"Truly?" Grace asked, causing Mister Francis to observe her with a taken aback expression. It was unlike her to ask a question without tearing at her lip or without wearing a look of consternation at even thinking of daring to speak, though it did not occur to Grace to make particular note of this new development as she happened quite naturally upon it.

She did notice Mister Ross' hat tip up a hair to look at her with half open eyes, which did cause her to curl into herself a trace more.

Mister Francis replied however, making every attempt to not call attention to the change in her interaction with him. "Yes." She wore an innocently unmasked expression of disbelief at his assertion, "I would not lie to you. Especially in regards to such a trivial matter and not when Ross can easily attest to it. Eh?" He punctuated his statement with a smack to Mister Ross' booted feet, which were propped and crossed on the seat next to Mister Francis.

Mister Ross' responded his voice gravelly with weariness, yet light with a smile. "I cannot deny it, little bird. He was quite awful, it's a wonder that Cousin Francis can even catch a breath set aside a fish."

The remark caused Mister Francis to yelp in distaste and make to tumble with Mister Ross, though in a manner which would not disturb the boat too much. Grace paitently watched the cousins tussle, quite uncomprehending of why Mister Francis had taken offense when Mister Ross had only agreed with him.

* * *

Francis had not given much thought to where the lines in his family were drawn.

To be true, he and Verity lived at Trenwith while Ross and Uncle Joshua occupied Nampara.

But for Francis that matter did not seem out of sort. It had been as it was since he was a child. Ross and Uncle Joshua were suited to the wild beauty of the golden grass fields surrounding Nampara, their quality would be ill suited to any permanent station at Trenwith.

Perhaps if Ross had made overtures to the comparable lavishness of Trenwith, Francis would have thought on the disparity between the two branches of their family with more scrutiny. But Ross never had anything but affection for either Verity or himself and to that affect Francis had never seen someone so happy in his state as Ross.

In fact whenever Ross visited Trenwith, Francis could almost sense that he was ill at ease with the pretty rooms and finishings about the house. As the eldest son of a family with an ancient name Ross of course understood and could abide the manners of the ton, though Francis gathered that if Ross had his way he would rather spend his time with the tenants on Uncle Joshua's lands or with the little slave girl he had taken into his care.

"You hear me boy?" Francis was pulled out of his thoughts by his father's harsh voice.

Sat in his study, behind his ornate desk, in the grey January light Francis could very distinctly see the stark difference in the Poldark brothers of Cornwall.

Uncle Joshua, while not overtly expressive of his sentiments as Ross was prone to be, held some softness in his countenance and posture. Francis reflected that his own father decidedly did not, and what's more he made it plain that he did not approve of the placidity present in Uncle Joshua's character.

Perhaps this was the reason why Father had been pressing Francis as of late.

"You would do better to mind me and spend your time at Trenwith where you belong. See if you can fill that head of yours with something useful." His father snorted as his grey-green eyes traveled from Francis' feet to his head and back down again in assessment. "Nampara can manage without you, I daresay."

For Francis a heavy sensation sank into his stomach at the thought of being limited in his access to Nampara. As much as he adored Trenwith and its comforts, the rugged land and sea that comprised the fabric of Nampara were also in his blood. Perhaps even as much as Ross' though not as outwardly apparent. Francis had found himself at his Uncle's doorstep frequently despite the fact Ross had not returned to Cornwall last year. Even if Uncle Joshua been occupied, Francis had been tasked by Ross to check in upon the little shade at Nampara. A task which had in truth been a blessed escape from the increasing pressures for Francis to prove himself that were arising from his father.

And now as he took in the harsh discernment of older man's glare Francis longed to find himself at Nampara Cove again.

Rather undone by his father's abruptness Francis bowed his head. "Yes, Father," he replied and began to turn on his heel after the grave man's brushed him off with a flick of his wrist and his gaze distracted once again by the paperwork on his desk. "But…" Francis found himself speaking before he had realized it, he swallowed thickly, filled with new anxiety when his father swiftly lifted his irritated eyes at the refusal of his dismissal. Francis went on when his father said nothing, making his best effort to keep his voice from wavering. "Surely visiting Ross, could be considered a worthy endeavour. We are family. Are we not?"

His father's bushy dark eyebrows rose with mocking disbelief, an expression Francis was not a stranger to when speaking with the older gentlemen. "It has been four years since his mother passed, three since his brother, you cannot still say that he has need of you for diversion."

"No." Francis' face lighted with a small smile, "Ross has no trouble in finding amusement. But as a member of this family surely it would be of some import that part of what I learn be passed along to him as well. If we all prosper that will…"

"Will you stop your babbling boy!"

Francis stepped back in alarm at the raised voice that had interrupted him. His blue eyes wide, he absorbed the volatile look his father wore.

"In the name of all that is good boy, can you not simply do your duty and set your focus on what matters? Yes, Joshua and Ross are family but their lot is not yours to worry over. Do you think Ross troubles himself with your concerns, eh? The running of this estate?" Father stood up now to thrust his arm and gestured outside the large windows towards the groomed lawns of Trenwith. "I do not deny I care for the boy and my brother. They are Poldarks after all, though already they bring us scandal with that business at the school, and cards, and drink, not to mention that little black thing they have taken in." His father moved around the desk to approach the young man, undisguised distaste heavy in his tone. "No, Francis, they will do naught to further our name. That burden rests solely on me and…you." Once again the light-haired man could feel the burn of his father's judging consideration on his form. "My son."

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**Hope you enjoyed it!**

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**I'd like to improve. Not sure when the next chapter will be up. Hope that it's soon though!**

**Thanks so much!**


	4. Chapter 4: Pets

**Hi out there! Hope you're enjoying the chapters so far.**

**Updates are probably going to slow down, but I'm still really excited by this story.**

**Please feel free to let me know what you think!**

**Let's go!**

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**Chapter Four - Pets**

"Ross." His dark eyes skimmed over Wren's skinny face.

For all her pliability, even at eight years of age she was rather an obstinate thing.

He found the development amusing to a point. She held the appearance of sweetness under her silence, yet he knew that there was a streak of stubbornness buried beneath it. Wren had proven as such when, despite Father's previous refusal, she had nursed and brought a litter of three foundling kittens into the stables at Nampara to the affect of infecting the home with crawlers for a full two weeks. Prudie and Jud had sworn a streak as they boiled the bedsheets and clothes and scrubbed the animals of the house clean. Father for once had not admonished them for their coarse words for Father himself had been furious. Ross had been no less pleased and Wren had almost fainted for the entire two week period whenever Father had entered a room she was in, and yet... despite the manner of their entry into the home the cats could still be found swaggering with an entitled authority around the house.

Due to her proximity to the kittens Wren seemed to have developed the worst itch of anyone upon her head. Prudie had attempted to rid Wren of the crawlers infesting her hair but the girl's curls were difficult for the kitchen maid to pick through so Prudie had simply cut Wren's hair close to the scalp. Now as Ross' intense gaze stuck on her, he could not keep back a smile at how much she resembled a reedy little boy, in a dress no less.

"Say it."

The girl had the audacity to shake her head at him, her brown eyes carrying a green glint lit by the candle flame dancing on the kitchen table as she did.

Only last week he has convinced her to call Francis 'Cousin Francis' on a lark. He and Francis had had a good turn about it. Though she had blushed and seemed uncertain Wren had offered a smile, perhaps a look of pride and making her betters laugh.

But now she would not follow his instruction when it came to his own title. The sound of someone like her saying his name in such a manner would be surreal and no doubt worth the amusement.

"'Tis easy. Simply do not say Mister as you usually do. Just Ross. Go on!" The 14 year old impatiently pressed the girl. In truth it was not so usual anymore. She had taken to lately calling him 'Sir' much as Prudie or Jud had done.

"Ross!" The boy jerked to stand up straight at booming voice of his father behind him. "Would you desist in pestering the poor girl, she looks about ready to swoon."

Ross' dark brow furrowed. "She is rather more formidable than we think I daresay." He had not noticed any great change in her demeanor to suggest any weakness in her senses, yet when he saw his father's stony expression Ross quit his argument and deferred to his father's judgement. No doubt to Father's mind the girl under his care was still too much a child to be teased by Ross in such a fashion "Yes, sir."

"Good man." His father nodded in approval.

Ross stood unsure of what to do with himself fully. The years away had been diverting, London had held its charms, but his heart had longed to return home. Now that he made it back to his kin, Ross felt out of step to a degree.

He was not the boy who left home years ago, he found that when faced with the older man he was not even the boy who still scribbled letters filled with a hidden affection and homesickness to his Father.

He was nearing manhood, and though he would happily clap his arms around his Father in a long hug, he could not understand how to be a man around him. It seemed that the distance that had always been between them had widened in Ross' time away.

"Come, Grace." Father gestured for the girl to follow him to the parlour. The young man's dark eyes trailed the girl, his task put to rest for now.

It had been unspoken that Ross was welcome and he did not see cause to deny himself the familiar yet unfamiliar privilege of his father's company. Sometimes they would play cards, sometimes Father would drink and reflect on Mother, sometimes they would discuss hypotheticals regarding the mine. During the latter subject in particular Ross would notice a light in the greying man's eyes whenever he would challenge him or ardently suggest some new course of action for the pretend scenario. Usually these heated discussions would result in both of the men chuckling at the other's raised passions and sipping brandy from their tumblers, which to Wren's credit were never in want of much refreshment.

Wren for her part would take to the task of filling cups and minding the fire without a word. She seemed to have found her place since Ross' last visit, and had managed to maintain it despite the incident involving the kittens. She would sit at his Father's side now on a small stool with a cushion either mending some clothing or prior to the incident with the crawlers she would be chewing on her hair or lately chewing on her thumb while reading from a book that Father would hand to her always in silence. Curious, Ross had glanced at the titles of the volumes she was being given, it seemed that Father did not discriminate in providing her a mixed education of histories, business, fiction, and herbology. In truth it did not seem that his dear Father took much notice of what he handed to the girl, only appearing to half-notice the titles himself as he passed them along to her.

Ross quirked an eyebrow at the strange development.

It looked quite as though his pet had become attached to another. As it was his father in question who drew her attentions, Ross did not see a need to mind it.

And though he could not wholly explain it, whatever other trepidations he may have had on the matter were soothed further by the fact that she would still come to find him on nights when her dreams would become too much to bear. She would still tap on his door in spite of the small lantern he had installed in her room. He would stroke her shortened hair and think on how she had managed in the months without him at Nampara, then he would stop himself from thinking on the behaviour any further.

Ross knew that he had reason to worry now, he had seen something more of the world and understood the implications if she were to be found in his bed.

But he rather thought it would say more about those that would judge such an innocent act, than about those who had committed it.

In any case, she was his by right… well, perhaps Father's, but all the same that made her his to do with what he saw fit and if she wished for comfort he saw that it was damn well fit to give it while he could.

Ross felt his mouth twitched as his gaze skimmed over the girl distracted by her book and chew on her much abused thumb.

Though perhaps it need not be shouted from the cliffs that Ross Poldark fell slave to the whims of his shadow.

* * *

Grace's watchful gaze peered out of the window of Nampara House. Miss Verity had come to visit Master Joshua and having satisfied herself of the gentle man's health was now engaging Grace in conversation.

"You simply must join me at Trenwith, my dear." The finely dressed lady spoke from the settee. Grace had not intended to be rude by lingering at the window but Molly had brought her little sister Jinny to call. At present the Martin girls were sat at the sunlit wall with the cats waiting for Grace to be finished tending to Miss Verity during her visit.

"Beggin' your pardon, m'am?" The words Miss Verity had spoken suddenly struck the ten year old girl, who had surprised herself with the sound of her own incredulous voice.

The kind woman gestured gently for Grace to move nearer by holding out her hand and grasping Grace's in an affectionate hold. "I do not wish to speak unkindly of my kin but…" Miss Verity smiled in a way that made her dark eyes almost look like Mister Ross'. "They not quite so diverting. Francis as you well know is at Harrow. And even when term is over he and Ross plan to go to France for the Summer." The young woman's face adopted an expression of longing, though she carried on with a smile. "Aunt Agatha seems to have more aches of late and Father spends much of his time minding his great works and his accounts."

Grace found her fingers involuntarily returning a squeeze, if Miss Prudie saw them so engaged now Grace knew that she'd be tearing strips off her later. Grace knew she ought not be conversing let alone touching such a lady as Miss Verity… being what she was herself.

But she had felt sympathy for the dark-eyed woman, she only wanted to show that she may understand some of her strife.

Miss Prudie always seemed to speak of aches, requiring constant aid and hot tea to ease her nerves. And, Master Joshua, he was quite engrossed in his accounts. Grace had notice in recent months the focus with which Master Joshua read his ledgers, so intense it was that his face near always pressed against the paper he was viewing. Dear soul, Grace thought of her Master, who would tease her and pat her head or pinch her cheek with a soft smile. He was so worn out that he could not find the energy to even read himself at night, he had compelled Grace to read for him, making no comment on her shaky voice or tripping words as she was obliged to comply.

If Miss Verity had even a scent of this in her own home, Grace could understand the worries that must have been on her friend's… on Miss Verity.

"Why! If Uncle Joshua could spare you for at least a week could you imagine the fun we would have?" A wide grin had broken over Miss Verity's face. Grace responded in kind, thinking on how the way she was treated by Miss Verity reminded her something of how she herself treated Sally. Taking great enjoyment in dressing her, caring for her as a babe, managing her hair… though the latter had proved a harder problem for Grace than for Sally.

"I do not know Miss." Grace chewed on the edge of her lip.

"Oh dear, did I not tell to mind that habit?" Miss Verity scolded in her soft loving manner, causing Grace to halt her teeth in their action. "You have such a lovely mouth, you know you mustn't ruin it by eating your lip, my dear." Miss Verity chided with a mournful look on her face at the damage Grace may have done already.

Why it would matter if her mouth was lovely or not Grace could not understand. Surely it would function much the same, no matter it's appearance. But Miss Verity was wise and her better, so Grace knew to trust her assessment on the subject.

"I know it troubles you to think of leaving Uncle Joshua, but I am sure I could convince him of my need for you. And he could not deny that it may do you good to be trained up in a style befitting a home such as Trenwith."

Grace's head spun at how quickly the woman before was speaking. Going away from Nampara House? From Master Joshua? Prudie? Jud? Wallace? What of her cats? Maurice, George, and Runt would surely be wanting in her absence.

To leave Nampara where her friends were safe and people no longer stared at her as they did in town, was a frightening prospect. Grace knew what she looked like now. Her hair had finally grown back from when the crawlers had infested it two years ago to reach below her chest. The little girl still remembered how Mister Ross had laughed at her cropped hair, her face must truly be something comical to cause that reaction. Even with her hair returned now to disguise her features Grace could only imagine how those from such a great house as Trenwith would perceive her in such a splendid setting. True, she had never set foot in the place, but if Mister Francis and Miss Verity were anything to go by it must be a very elegant home.

Her heart raced in her chest. She did not wish to go. Perhaps Miss Verity could see that in her eyes?

"Do not worry, my dear. I am sure Uncle Joshua will allow me this favour, especially when I explain my need for you considering Aunt Agatha's current state." Miss Verity gave Grace's cheek a pat. "In fact, I think I will go ask him now."

Grace did not know what to say that would be appropriate. So she did not say anything as Miss Verity lifted herself off of the settee to find Master Joshua in his study, she only felt her heart fall at the thought of leaving yet another home.

* * *

Trenwith was a strange place. Both in time and appearance. Only a night and part of day had passed and still it felt as though it had been an eternity.

As though she had entered a new world.

Grace found that sensation upon her first moment inside the grand home.

She had seen the border of grounds of the great house when Mister Ross has ridden there with her last Winter to meet Mister Francis.

But she had never seen such a sight as the rolling green laid out in front of Trenwith. Let alone the fine objects held inside of the walls. Each glance of her eyes around the place woke some new wonder in her.

So many rooms! With so much light and so many colours and such soft luxurious furnishings in them!

The light in Nampara only seemed to cast shadows as compared to the light found at Trenwith.

At least in the upper and forward facing rooms of the home. The smaller darker spaces of the kitchens and servants quarters took up the very bottom and top portion of the home was nearly the size of the whole of Nampara.

Grace had gaped at the long corridors for sometime doing her utmost to keep her mouth closed as the housekeeper, Mrs. Keough, made no effort to disguise a frown at the girl for the even sound of her breathing.

Grace knew that she had already made mistakes. So many more people worked to tend to Trenwith than Nampara. She yearned for the familiar sound of Jud's complaining and Prudie's speechifying. The crackle if the fire as she read to Master Joshua. The smell of the salt sea in the air. The sea itself...

On her first day what she wouldn't have given to have one of her cats brush against her legs as she carried a bucket of logs behind Norah, the maid in charge of cleaning out the Trenwith fireplaces in the mornings and lighting new ones. The little girl had a frightful first night's sleep in the strange room she had been installed in. There had been two cots, as Mrs Keough called them, though Grace had the room to herself. The housekeeper had sniffed and muttered about how it would have been inappropriate for Grace to share. The woman's severe attitude had made Grace hold her tongue and caused her to shudder at the thought of even asking Mrs Keough for a lantern as Mister Ross had provided her with and which Miss Prudie had been kind enough to help her light each night at Nampara.

But she was not at Nampara now. Master Joshua had said she would not return for a week, perhaps two if Miss Verity had more need of her.

It was so that the ten year old had passed her first night in Trenwith with her wide eyes reflecting in the moonlight as they peered around the shadows in the dark room and her ears longed for the soothing heart beat that to continued to provide her with comfort after so many years.

'Twas a blessing Norah had not spoken as she worked with Grace, as the child's mind and eyes were too weary to handle both the simulation of a new environment as well as the responsibility of holding a conversation. Rather Norah seemed to save her words for the male servants they passed on their route around the house and for the ladies downstairs in the kitchen.

Grace would have carried on in her assigned duty had it not been for Miss Verity arriving at the kitchen in a ruffle asking why Grace had not come to help that morning along with a proper maid.

The housekeeper had stuttered and apologized profusely, bowing her head to Miss Verity as the lady left the kitchen with a wink at Grace.

Grace soon found herself pulled by the ear to another room. Mrs Keough threw a dress at her to wear. "Disgusting..." the woman who was younger than Prudie frowned more and looked older than Grace thought possible as she moved to the wash bowl in the corner of the room and proceeded to roughly scrub the fingers that she had pinched Grace's ear with.

With that left ear still throbbing from its twisting Grace pulled on the dress she had been given. She did her best to lace the front of the garment but the woman only scoffed and tied the laces so tight Grace could scarcely breathe.

Grace kept her eyes cast down and did not mention it. She did not wish to disappoint Miss Verity further by making more mistakes.

"Come girl." The woman urged Grace to follow her though the maze of passages in the home. "Mistrss Verity would like you to mind her maid so as to learn... she says." Mrs Keough scoffed and shook her head at the thought, as the passed from the bare wood hall of the servants quarters to the elaborate passage in the upstairs of the house.

Grace trailed behind the woman and her stiffly moving skirts. The little girl wondered at the stiffness in the dress she was wearing now and the fineness of it. It was certain more white than anything she had ever donned at Nampara.

Nampara... her heart sank as she thought on Master Joshua and his reading by the fire at night. Who had kept him company? And Miss Prudie with her aches and all those chores? And Jud? Who was handing him the tools he requested as he fixed one thing or another around the yard? And Maurice, and George, and Runt? What of them?

"Are you listening you ghastly creature!" Pain ripped through her left ear again as Mrs Keough turned it. Grace gasped in surprise.

"S-sorry m'am." She winced, biting back tears.

"I don't want you're apologies. Just listen, do as you're told, and keep out of the way." With another rough twist of Grace's ear Mrs Keough let go. Grace desperately wished to reach under her hair to rub her sore ear but Mrs Keough's brown eyes remained on the girl in deep judgement.

They had arrived outside of a large door which Mrs Keough knocked on softly.

A flurry of fabric was heard on the other side and suddenly the hall was flooded with more light as Miss Verity opened the door to what appeared to be her chambers.

"Ah here you are!" She exclaimed, drawing Grace into the room. "Thank you Mrs Keough. She looks wonderful. Don't you just, my dear?" Miss Verity clapped her hands and grinned widely at Grace. "How I've longed to see you out of those dull browns." Miss Verity turned to Mrs Keough, "Thank you. I will be sure to call if we require assistance." The grave woman bowed slightly and back out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Miss Verity's dark eyes shone with excitement as they took Grace in once more. Grace was herself absorbing the grand room she was standing in. It was at least as wide as the kitchen in Nampara and most definitely greater in height.

"Come sit by me, my dear." Miss Verity had moved to prettily perch on a very soft looking bench by the window.

Grace cautiously made her way towards the glass. Her brown eyes daring herself to look down and beyond the edge. This was surely a much higher point than she had ever reached in any tree.

"Come." Miss Verity carried on smiling reassuringly at Grace.

Grace stepped closer to the sweet woman, stopping short of touch the furniture.

"Grace, dear, I invited you to sit." The dark haired woman patted the cushion next to where she was seated herself.

Her own eyes falling to her feet, while resisting the urge to toe at the soft rug laying under them, Grace shook her head. "Please I mustn't. 'Tis is so fine and I..."

"You must be quite worn out, my dear. I cannot imagine how much this all must be for you. And as the one who has played a part in this change I insist you sit so that I can at least offer so relief for my own conscience."

Grace glanced up to see that Miss Verity would not be moved.

With uncertain foot after uncertain foot Grace neared the bench and with extreme rigidity to her body she sat down, her posture rod straight ready to jump up should Miss Prudie suddenly burst into the room.

"There!" Miss Verity gave the back of Grace's hand an encouraging pat. "Now..." she paused waiting for Grace's wide eyes to meet hers. "I have something for you."

The girl's brown face morphed with distress at the thought that Miss Verity had gone out of her way to provide more for her.

"Miss..." the girl began her voice shaking but insistent.

Miss Verity held up a hand to stop Grace from speaking further. "None of that, my dear. You needn't vex yourself." Miss Verity said as always in her kind way. She made to reach next to the bench and lifted a box on to her lap. "This is not from me, though I regret not minding it."

Grace's brow knit with such immense confusion she was sure she would be stuck with the expression. Who would sent her anything? And to Trenwith no less?

Miss Verity did not say anymore only moved her eyes from the box to Grace to suggest that the girl open it.

Hands trembling, Grace placed her fingers on the lid and peeled it back with disbelief. Surely someone had made some sort of mistake.

Grace continued believing so until the lid was fully removed, only then did her tired eyes fill with water.

"Uncle Joshua sent it along this morning." Miss Verity explained. "I am most sorry not asking you if you required anything in particular, my dear."

Grace shook her head to avail Miss Verity of her worries. Meanwhile, her own mouth quivered and eyesight blurred as she took in the vision of the lantern she had missed the night before resting inside the box and attached to a scribbled note inked in Master Joshua's script... 'You seemed to have forgotten this. Do mind to bring it back with you when you return home'.

* * *

**Hey again. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. **

**Will try to update again soon!**

**Thanks!**


	5. Chapter 5: Play

**Hi to whoever's out there! Been editing this chapter for a while trying to get it to work. Hopefully I've gotten it to flow properly. Please forgive the misspelling. Thanks!**

* * *

**Chapter Five – Play**

Verity's chest fluttered with some pride as her ears filled with the sound of a familiar voice singing.

Aunt Agatha had only just scolded the little brown girl for letting her words trail off when she sang instead of finishing her phrases off properly. Their elderly aunt had initially looked upon Grace with distaste, but while the distaste remained in some part Aunt Agatha had developed a tolerance… though she continued to avoid looking directly at the girl.

Grace had followed Verity, as she had been instructed to do during her stay at Trenwith, with great discipline and commitment. When Grace had first attended Aunt Agatha, the older woman had refused to acknowledge the little girl in any way.

It was only because of Aunt Agatha's melancholy on one grey afternoon and search for some form of amusement that upon Aunt's mention of irritation Verity had suggested that Grace read for them as she had done for Uncle Joshua when at Nampara.

However, Aunt Agatha had scoffed and muttered that if the girl could do nothing useful then she would rather no noise at all. Grace had looked at Verity with her large pleading eyes, and so Verity began to sing to draw off some of Aunt Agatha's ire. Soon though it had become quite a diverting venture and Grace had joined her after some urging, her voice timidly in growing in strength as she went on.

The next day Aunt Agatha, behaving quite as though nothing new was the matter, had asked for the 'little black beast' to sing again.

It was a kindness truly on Aunt's part, Verity thought to herself as she looked on at the girl whose voice had no doubt improved under Aunt Agatha's tutelage even after only a few days.

Little lost soul. Verity's dark eyes skimmed over the coffee skinned girl in sympathy. The sweet child seemed quite overwhelmed by what she saw as Verity's machinations over her wellbeing. Simple little thing that she was Grace required much guidance if she was to survive this world, one could not expect such a babe with the trappings of her race to develop a sure sense of herself let alone learn how to manage herself.

Poor darling. Verity smiled as Grace's voice cracked on a note.

It was such a kindness for Uncle Joshua to take it upon himself to burden his household. Yet, in truth the little girl did very little to make herself a burden. Though father had made sure to remind Verity of the burden she had brought to Trenwith with Grace's presence no matter how temporary the placement was.

Verity frowned at her father's disapproval of even having the girl under the roof of Trenwith. No doubt he still recalled the first night Francis had attempted to bring her into the house all those years ago. Clearly Grace had stained his opinion of her from that first impression.

"Verity!" The young woman snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of her cross Aunt. "Will you not accompany that creature to keep time? It is mangling the song." Her Aunt dressed all in black, looked as grim as ever even in her seat next to the daylit window in the parlour. "I am to go for a rest in my chamber, I expect improvement upon my return."

Verity swallowed her anxiety at being called out, "Of course Aunt." She nodded her head for Grace to follow her to the piano forte at the edge of the room. Aunt Agatha removed herself from the parlour and closed the door behind her as she left.

"Do not mind her Grace," Verity whispered as she took her seat at the piano. "You see she treats us all the same."

The green in Grace's brown eyes stood out as the girl watched Verity with a mix of apprehension and trust.

"Now," Verity shifted to sit with her shoulders back and straightened her posture, raising her finger to rest on an A note she instructed Grace to listen to the note and attempt to match the pitch with her voice.

Grace nodded that she understood, Verity noticed with approval that the girl was doing her best to avoid biting her lip.

"Good." Verity gave Grace a smile and played the note.

She had not known what to expect but Grace had never been one to not follow instruction. Yet when Verity played the note Grace did not sing. Her large eyes only grew wider as they stuck on Verity's finger pushing down on a white key.

An expression of awe and confusion spread across the little dark face before her.

For a moment Verity could not fathom why, but it occurred to her that it was likely that Grace would not have heard a piano ever before. The girl did not attend church and Uncle Joshua held her back from the festivities around Nampara, not that anyone at Nampara would have had piano to play at any rate.

Her smile grew as she asked, "Did you like the sound?"

"Yes." Grace surprised Verity by saying her response out loud instead of simply nodding or shaking her head. Verity suspected the response would have been non-verbal if Grace had not been so distracted by her new musical discovery.

It was charming.

Casting a side glance at the door Aunt Agatha had only just departed through, Verity inhaled sharply and moved aside on the bench she was seated on.

"Come along then my dear." She gestured for Grace to join her.

Grace looked between Verity's face and the piano and began to shake her head.

Before she knew it, Verity had reached out and pulled the girl to sit beside her on the bench. Verity did not know fully what had come over her.

She suddenly was immensely tickled at the idea of a girl such as Grace at her side learning about the piano.

"Now, this is an A." Verity played the note again, eyeing Grace who appeared as awestruck as ever. "And a B…" Verity demonstrated the rest of the notes in the range, "these notes grouped together are called an octave. When you reach the end the sequence begins with A once again." She explained, relishing the amazement and infatuation the girl was showing.

Perhaps… Verity thought to herself as she watched Grace, after much prompting, raise her dark fingers above the keys to mimic the notes that had been played for her.

Perhaps... it was more than mere novelty.

Verity thought of how her days had passed in Trenwith prior to the girl's arrival at Nampara. As was expected Verity had been Aunt Agatha's companion following Mama's passing. The sixteen year old swallowed away the thought of her late mother. Such a wonderful woman…

Yes, Verity had done as was expected and as she was happy to do for her family. For the sake of Francis… so young at the time, dear boy.

However, she would not be truthful if she did not say that her days had held a sort of repetitive quality to them since then. No more adventures with Ross or Francis. No more riding when she felt the urge. No more reading to her heart's content. No more spending time with the other girls in town. She was to remain at Trenwith to watch over Aunt Agatha. An honour really, but at times a dreary one.

The arrival of Grace had been a change. Especially when Ross had requested that she look in on the little girl from time to time.

Verity had never really been able to resist requests from her cousin and gladly obliged the favour. But Ross could not know the favour that he had done her in tasking her with this small glimmer of life outside of Trenwith.

Grace had been as baby figurine for Verity in the initial years that she had known the girl. Someone to dress and fawn over. Someone new and exciting. Someone who called her away from the walls that surrounded her.

Such a little thing… Verity sniffed slightly, clearing her throat with a small cough as she corrected Grace's hand position.

No... seeing the girl now Verity could not think of her as a novelty.

Perhaps she could think of her as something else…

* * *

Grace had found that her opinion of Trenwith had changed quite drastically since her first arrival.

In fact it had remarkably improved upon Miss Verity deciding to teach her something of the piano.

The tinkling keys of that beautiful instrument were her sanctuary in this strange place away from home. This had been her third year attending regularly at Trenwith. Master Joshua had not been particularly happy about the arrangement yet for reasons Grace could not comprehend, for three weeks twice a year he continued to send her to the large manor far away from the sea. She had done all she could of to make herself indispensable at Nampara House. She had calloused her hands and slept only as much as she absolutely needed to complete her chores as well as any other tasks Master Joshua had not yet thought of. She had stayed awake with him to speak of any topics he desired. He seemed to enjoy talking of the mine and farm as he did when Mister Ross had returned to Nampara. At first he laughed at her timid thoughts and words but slowly he had brought her out to speak candidly at least more candidly than she had ever done before. 'Twas now to the point where she found herself looking forward to the chats rather than dreading the thought of having to speak.

Speak on matters of the farm and the mine that is... speaking about other matters such as her visits to Trenwith and Mrs Keough and her ear pulling was another affair all together. Grace often found her tongue went limp at even the thought of addressing the subject with Master Joshua who had treated her so kind. She did not wish to burden Prudie or Jud neither, who made it plain that she ought to be grateful for the opportunity. Prudie had made any number of comments about the 'finer workings at Trenwith' but when Grace had expressed her preference for Prudie and Jud's manner of managing Nampara, Prudie had stopped supposing about the running of Trenwith. Instead she seemed to find reason to express distaste for the house and nod at Grace as though they shared a secret understanding.

Mister Ross had grown accustom to the development as Grace's time at Trenwith did not coincide with his breaks from school and his apprenticeship. He had smiled and remarked on how good it was that Grace was keeping Miss Verity company. In truth Mister Ross' trips home had become less frequent as of late and so Grace held on to his wishes for her as his final judgement on the matter.

But truthfully, aside from Miss Verity and the piano, Grace could find very little to warm her to this place. And even those temptations were not exclusive to Trenwith any longer, Miss Verity continued to visit Nampara, but she had also provided Grace with a thin roll of fabric woven with piano keys sewn on it at proper scale for Grace to practice with while at Nampara.

Grace would forever be grateful. Regardless of the lack of sound from the fabric, she much preferred sitting on the wooden floor by the fire at Nampara with George and Runt and Maurice than being in the grand, plush rooms of Trenwith. She disliked the coldness of the manners and the perfect setting of everything played on her nerves.

Yet, despite her obvious out of step quality at Trenwith, Miss Verity seemed insistent on her need of Grace to help with Aunt.

The twelve year old's heart filled with affection for sweet Miss Verity and her poor state always bending herself to meet the needs of her aging Aunt.

Even now Miss Verity had removed herself from the room to manage a issue with Aunt and somehow the young dark skinned girl had found herself quite alone in the parlour. An extraordinary occurrence as Miss Verity had often impressed upon Grace the importance of staying at her side while at Trenwith. No doubt the brevity of the visit to Aunt was the reason Miss Verity had encouraged Grace to carry on in her practice.

A task with the little girl was all too happy to go to.

Lost in the sonata she was playing Grace did not hear Miss Verity re-enter the room. As such, her brown eyes startled at the sight of the silent woman in the corner of the parlour.

Miss Verity had opened her mouth to speak, when a gruff voice called from the adjacent room. It was a room that Grace had not been granted entry to nor been told the function of.

"Why in god's name did you stop Verity? Play!"

Miss Verity's dark eyes filled with alarm as she rushed to hustle Grace off of the bench.

"Father!" She whispered in a harsh breath, causing Grace to blanch.

"Verity! Did you not hear me?"

"Yes Papa!" Miss Verity called out, pausing for a moment with her hands raised above the piano keys. She cast a quick look up at Grace, who was now standing, then returned the little girl to her previous seat at the piano.

The surprised girl did not have time to question as Miss Verity breathed in her ear. "Play Grace." Miss Verity lifted the Grace's limp arms to rest upon the keys. "Pretend it is only me, my dear."

Grace was not sure how she found the courage. She was shaking as her hands began to move as if of their own accord. Anxiously ringing out the tune that she had been so easily been playing before.

Miss Verity nodded at her, causing Grace to swallow and forge ahead, her confidence slowly returning as she carried on.

* * *

"Father will be none the wiser." Miss Verity reassured Grace later that evening as the little girl brushed out the young woman's hair.

Grace did not reply, only focussed on her task. Her envious fingers running through the soft, silky hair that was so simple to comb out.

The girl's mossy brown eyes flitted to the mirror on Miss Verity's vanity, where she caught sight of herself. She had not truly had a proper reflection of her appearance until her first arrival at Trenwith. There were no mirrors in Mister Ross' room. While the other glass at Nampara was distorted in the windows, offering a poor picture, and the foaming water in the ocean was not much better. It was not until she had brushed Miss Verity's hair for the first time that she fully understood her lacking features.

Her lips were too big and her hair too wild as it fell down her shoulders. Not to mention the slight crookedness of her front teeth and the colour of skin.

The twelve year old had never given her appearance much thought, she knew she looked different to those around her but it had not been so stark a realization until she saw herself next to the pale image in the mirror.

She was nothing compared to Miss Verity.

In the last month Grace had found herself tying her hair in a sort of wrap to hide it away from the curious hands in town, but also to hide its ugliness. For the first time she felt embarrassed at the immensity of it. In the past few years she had found an additional layer of self-consciousness when associating with the Martin children or any of the children around Nampara for that matter. Still, she did not wish to cut it short again, she recalled Mister Ross' laughter at the cropped length. Surely at that time she must have appeared even worse than she already did.

Prudie had long since given up on brushing her hair, but Grace had found that when she washed herself that if her hair was wet she was able to run her fingers through with much more ease than if she tried with a brush when her hair was dry.

But Miss Verity did not have to make such considerations.

Her hair was beautiful. Miss Verity said that she was eighteen and in something called 'bloom' which was why her own hair was so lovely.

"As soon as Aunt Agatha is more settled, I will make a proper entrance into society." Miss Verity smiled kindly at Grace through her mirrored image. "And you'll have a chance to see what it is to be a proper Lady's Maid."

Grace bit the inside of her cheek instead of her lip, as Miss Verity had said it was a bad habit to chew on her lip. She young girl nodded her head in response.

Miss Verity had shown Grace such kindness. The little girl would do whatever the sweet woman asked, though she hoped that whatever tasks a Lady's Maid was responsible for would take no longer than her current responsibilities at Trenwith already did.

She did not wish to assume, but she felt that her absence at Nampara was not reasonable for more than the six weeks she already took out for the year... That is at least if Master Joshua was to believed on the nights at Nampara when he would slur slightly on his way up the creaking steps to bed.

* * *

"Is this what your Father had in mind, do you think?"

Ross grinned at Francis across the table, his mouth full of brandy that he swallowed with great thirst. "I am meant to be making myself man, cousin."

Francis laughed and raised a cup in toast.

The dark-haired of the pair smiled widely at the cards he had been dealt. His streak had been quite good for the past three rounds and his luck did not seem to be changing just yet.

"Do you not miss it though?"

"What?" Ross asked raising his distracted gaze back up to his blue-eyed cousin.

"Cornwall? Home?"

Ross frowned at the question. "I suppose..." His eyes wandered around the bustling room. There were respectable men, less than respectable women, cards, drink, music, any number of amusements. He could not ignore the ache that he felt when he thought of Cornwall, though he did not think on it as often as he once did. A memory of soft hair tickling his nose brushed against him from time to time but London had been much more agreeable prospect as of late.

He thought of deep green eyes with much more devotion than he thought of his own home in recent days. They were eyes he'd been thinking of since his Summer in France two years ago.

"Nothing calling you back?" Francis teased, his cheeks rather red from drink.

"I suppose I would worry for Father were it only Prudie and Jud about, but Wren is there to watch out for him." Ross returned with a good natured chuckle.

"Aye. I daresay your little shade would rather throw herself to the lions than allow Uncle Joshua an ounce of suffering."

"Aye." Ross agreed with a swig of his drink.

"She's quite clever thing if Verity is to be believed."

"Hmm?" Ross' brow had creased in a frown again, as he followed the cards being played at the table, distracted once more.

"The shade, Ross! Apparently her piano has become so proficient Father has been fooled by her skill so as to think Verity is playing."

"Ah uh..." the dark-eyed man replied, only half listening, as he played his hand. "Do you suppose Elizabeth will arrive to town this week?" Ross asked as it seemed his streak finally ended. He took another drink from his glass, still in good spirits despite his loss.

Francis smirked at his clearly besotted cousin. "Why would you want to know that Ross?" He pretended to be ignorant of Ross' apparent affection.

"Do not be a cad Francis, it does not become you." Ross huffed, though with a smile as he stood from the table to take a turn about the room.

Francis stood to keep step with his cousin.

The two seventeen year olds drank and spoke as close as they had ever been, their commandrie obvious.

"I'm loathed to return myself, if I am honest." Francis remarked with a sorrowful expression on his face. Ross responded with a nod for his cousin to continue to explaining, which Francis did with a sigh. "Father as grown more... insistent in my development as head of the Poldark legacy."

Ross offered a sympathetic grimace at that.

He supposed that he could have been insulted or feel envious but in reality he much preferred Nampara and his own Father to the responsibilities of Trenwith or Uncle Charles.

"I am sorry Francis. Truly, I would rather you stay here with me." Ross clapped a hand on his cousin's shoulder.

"Me as well." Francis took a deep drink from his tumbler.

"At least you can visit Nampara. Uncle Charles will not be able to commandeer every moment of your time in Cornwall if you call on Father..." Ross thought for moment feeling as though he may have been forgetting something "... Father and Wren." Ross completed his statement.

Francis' smile came back at that. "Yes, that will provide some manner of distraction."

"Good!" Ross slapped his cousin's back with more force, his eyes already moving to another table with a diverting game afoot.

"Is there anything I should say to her this time?"

"Who?"

"The little shade?"

Ross frowned once more, "Oh! Yes..." He looked at his cousin with some consternation and a slight twinge of guilt and vexation at having to be prompted by someone else to offer Wren a well wish. Thinking for a moment, frown in place, he finally decided, "Yes... you just tell my little bird to keep making her music."

* * *

**And there it is! Please let me know what you think I love hearing hearing feedback of any kind.**

**Thanks so much for reading!**


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